What Can I Say?
by iNxC0NCERTx2010
Summary: Songfic: What Can I Say / Carrie Underwood


**What Can I Say?  
><strong>Carrie Underwood (feat. Sons of Sylvia)

"I have to get out of here." The room fell silent in disbelief. Was he actually going to leave? Reba watched as Brock made his way across the room, stopping at the door. He opened it with a forceful swing, walking into the pouring rain.

"Brock." Reba followed him to the front porch, hearing the rainfall fill the night. Thunder crashed, and lightning struck, lighting up the sky eerily. There was nothing she could do to keep him home. He was leaving, and she knew they were both to blame. As much as she wanted to place the blame on Brock, she couldn't. Their relationship was going through a rough patch, and she was just as much at fault.

Her eyes, ironically enough, seemed to match his pickup truck that was driving out of her life: red and wet. She let the tears fall, just as heavily as the rain, as she watched his taillights being swallowed up by the night.

_**Piercing words, eyes are red  
>Watched your taillights in the rain<br>Empty heart filled with regret  
>I know we were both to blame<strong>_

She turned her back to the street, resting her hand on the cold metal of the door handle. She opened it slowly, knowing she would be the only one to walk back inside. The door slammed behind her, slamming the door on the relationship she and Brock had shared. The door was officially shut and locked. Maybe one day it could be unlocked, but currently, it was sealed tightly.

* * *

><p>Seven years had passed since their divorce, yet the day was fresh in the minds of both Brock and Reba. Each look, every encounter, they always had the fateful day resting in the back of their minds. They wanted the days before the divorce back, but knew they had to move forward with their lives; unfortunately, that meant keeping their sights ahead, and never looking back.<p>

Reba looked to her bedside table. Over the years, she had stuffed her drawers full of words she desperately wanted to tell Brock, but had never said. She wanted to say 'I love you' and 'I miss you,' but was overwhelmed with pride. There was no use to telling him, they could never fix what once was.

They would never be like they were.

_**And I'm not sorry that it's over  
>But for the way we let it end<br>So I said all I had to say  
>In letters that I threw away<strong>_

Brock sighed in frustration. It had been a long day at the office; he never thought the prospect of 10 root canals in one day would ever be a bad thing. He set aside the paperwork in front of him, shifting his gaze to the photo on his desk. It was a picture of the whole family at their annual Christmas dinner. He smiled seeing Reba's smile, it seemed to brighten his mood. She always did have that effect.

He picked up the phone, knowing there were unspoken words left between them. He heard the line ring once, quickly deciding to hang up. Bringing up old feelings would be a terrible idea. It would cause more pain than closure, not to mention, cause a chaos in the rare calmness that had settled between the homes.

He set the phone back on his desk and returned to the paperwork that lay before him.

_**And you should know, please believe me  
>I've picked up the phone a thousand times<br>And tried to dial your number  
>But it's been so long, it's never easy<br>It's like trying to spin the world the other way  
>What can I say?<strong>_

Today was Friday, and Brock would be dropping little Jake off at Reba's house soon. She was happy to see her son, but with him would be his father. It is not that she hated to see Brock that was not it. She hated the feelings that seeing him brought. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that she hated him, she knew it would always be a lie.

She stared at the stove, remembering how many family meals had been cooked there. How many times Brock had sneaked up behind her and stole butterfly kisses from her. She shook her head forcefully, ridding her mind of Brock. She shouldn't have been thinking of him. Yet, that is all she seemed to be doing lately, thinking of him. She sighed, placing the wooden spoon she held on the counter. "God, Why was I so critical and controlling?" she asked the empty room before her. If she could take it back, she surely would.

Brock looked to the streets, driving across town to his ex wife's home. He smiled passing the park, countless restraints, and bars. Seeing the town rush by outside his window brought back memories. Unfortunately, so did the pouring rain. He thought about that fateful night seven years ago. God, how stupid he was for walking away. If he could turn back the hands of time, his one wish would be that he would have communicated more often with his wife. He should have noticed when she was struggling, and been there for her, instead of walking out the door.

_**How did it come to this?  
>I think about you all the time<br>it's no excuse  
>but I wish that I never made you cry<br>**_

Reba sighed, relieved that she had finished dinner without another thought of Brock. Just as she had set the last plate on the table, Jake came rushing through the front door, being closely followed by Brock.

"Hey Mom!" Jake rushed upstairs with his bags, only stopping to say hello. Reba gazed at the stairs. She couldn't believe her baby was going be in high school next year. Time had flown by not stopping for any breaks.

"Hi." Brock said awkwardly, standing at the door. He saw Reba staring at the stairs, and wasn't sure if he should stay, or just leave.

"Hey." She said with a small smile. "Do you want to stay for dinner?" before she knew what she was saying, the words had spewed out of her mouth. She looked to the couch, focusing on anything other than Brock. She wished she could take the offer back, but, regrettably, that would have been rude.

"No, I think I would be best if I just leave." He smiled weakly back at the beautiful redhead that stood before him. She sighed inwardly, relieved that he had refused her offer. She quickly said goodbye and watched as his truck pulled away from her house.

Dinner was unusually silent, as Cheyenne and Van had not made their weekly appearance asking for food. She smiled thinking of her oldest daughter and son-in-law. They had finally moved out and had a life of their own. She was happy for them, she truly was.

She turned her thoughts to her youngest daughter, Kyra. She had recently gone on tour, still refusing to go to college. She was a successful musician, and Reba was her Proud Mama. She couldn't be happier for Kyra; she was living out her dream, and having a wonderful time doing it.

Unfortunately, though, that meant that the once 'Family Dinner' had been slowly diminishing. It was now only her and Jake, something she thought would never happen. She could never picture family dinner without Brock occupying the chair next to her. Even if he wasn't there physically, he would always be in her heart. She was just too stubborn to admit so.

_**I'm not sorry that it's over  
>But for the way we let it end<br>I couldn't find the words to say**_

Jake promptly finished eating, which only left Reba at the table. She stared down at her plate, only to find that her appetite had left her, with the rest of the family. She got up from the table and placed the dirty dinner dishes in the dish washer, then retreated to the living room.

She pulled a piece of paper from the desk, and took her place in the chair. She stared at the paper for a moment, before writing down all she had to say. It had become a weekly ritual for her. She would write a letter to Brock, explaining her feelings, a letter that would never get sent. It would take it's place being stuffed into her bedside table with all of the others.

Pulling back into his driveway, Brock turned off his truck and pulled the key out of the ignition. He stared at the condominium that stood before him. It was a lonely place, most of the time. Every other week he had Jake to keep him company, but it just didn't seem right.

Quickly, he made his way inside without getting completely drenched by the pouring rain. He, like Reba, also had a weekly routine. He would stare at the phone until he worked up the nerve to call her. He had never gotten past two rings before he hung up, though. The thought that they made their choices seven years ago was always in the back of his mind, which was what stopped him from telling Reba how he really felt.

They let out a simultaneous sigh, before recoiling to their own bedrooms. It was never easy to pry open a locked door.

_**And you should know, please believe me  
>I've picked up the phone a thousand times<br>And tried to dial your number  
>But it's been so long, it's never easy<br>It's like trying to spin the world the other way  
>So what can I say?<br>What can I say?  
>What can I say?<strong>_

Brock tossed and turned, thinking of the encounter he was faced with today. Reba had invited him to stay for dinner. Why had he not accepted it? It would have been the perfect time to tell her how he felt. He turned over once more in his bed, facing the window. He saw the busy lights of downtown Houston shining through the window. He had to tell her.

He jumped out of bed and threw on decent clothes. As he raced across town for the second time today, he prayed that he wouldn't get rejected.

A drive that usually took 30 minutes had been reduced to only 15 tonight. He put his truck in park and slowly made his way up to the front door. He hesitated before knocking, thinking of all the ways this could go wrong. He finally silenced his conscious by knocking on the door. There was no turning back now.

Reba tossed and turned as she thought about her day. She sighed in frustration; wishing sleep would finally overtake her. "I should have had another glass of wine." She thought aloud. She smiled, trying to close her eyes once again.

Her eyes shot open, once again, though when she heard a knock on the door. Who could possible is visiting her at the hour of the night? Cautiously, she made her way down the steps and to the door. Seeing a large, presumably male figure behind the door she asked "Who is it?" before unlocking it.

"It's me…Brock." His voice was gentle, yet loud enough for her to hear. She timidly opened the door, wondering why he would bother her at 11 o'clock.

"Hi." She said after opening the door. Brock could see her eyes were heavy, but had no indication that she had been sleeping.

"Hey, Can't sleep either?" he asked while stepping onto the landing, inside the house. She shocks her head, agreeing with his question.

"Brock."

"Reba."

Reba smiled weakly, signaling for Brock to say what was on his mind. "I'm sorry." He blurted out suddenly. He knew by the puzzled look on Reba's face, she wished for him to elaborate. "I am sorry that I can not control my stupidity most of the time. I am sorry that my communication skills are those of a third grader; I am also so sorry for hurting you."

She stared at him for a moment, trying to take in all he had just said. "Brock," she spoke softly, "Are you talking about…" she trailed off, not wanting to mention their divorce. He only nodded, understanding the unspoken words. "Brock, that was seven years ago. How could you still be feeling guilt about that?"

He sighed, preparing to speak again. "I guess feelings like that don't just go away." He spoke more softly than both of them had anticipated. "I guess, if anything ever happened," he paused taking a moment to look at Reba. "I didn't want your last true memory of me to be walking out."

_**I hate to think all you had of me  
>(I said all I had to say)<br>Is a memory I left you,  
>Space between what was mean to be<br>(In letters I threw away)  
>And the mess that it turned into<strong>_

"Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, not hate me?" Reba stepped forward, bringing him into a tight hug. She buried her face in his chest, trying to hold back the subtle tears that had begun to form.

"Brock, I could never hate you…no matter how much I wanted to." Brock held on to her waist tighter. How this woman could forgive him was beyond comprehension, he was just glad she did.

"Do you know how many times I have tried to call you?" She smiled, knowing exactly how he felt. Trying to bust through a locked door was never an easy process.

"I have dozens of letters that I have written, explaining my feelings to you. Not one of them ever got sent though."

"What exactly did those letters say?" Brock inquired taking a step closer to Reba.

"The long version or short version?" she laughed, causing Brock to laugh along with her. "I love you, come back home."

Their laughter stopped, as Brock took another step forward. "I'm home now." He said before kissing her lips passionately. After seven years of miscommunication, stubborn pride, and hidden feelings, they had been reunited in one evening of wearing their heart on their sleeve.

_**And you should know, please believe me  
>I've picked up the phone a thousand times<br>And tried to dial your number  
>But it's been so long, it's never easy<br>It's like trying to spin the world the other way  
>It's like trying to spin the world the other way<br>What can I say?  
>What can I say?<br>What can I say?**_

**Review ? (;  
>Are you guys getting tired of songfics? or can i keep going? lol (;<strong>


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